Carriage
by Liebling
Summary: ‘ But you fall for them. Rather, you jump for them and fight for them and eat with them and that sort of thing.’ Harry&Hermione&Ron friendship fic. Angsty Ron&Hermione.


**_Sy Parrish:_**_ Nobody takes a picture of something they want to forget._

_~ A movie   ;)_

_Authors Notice:  Written in the 'you' style, don't you guys love that?  It's not as happy as I imagined, really, but a lot of people will probably read it and go: "That's so sweet!" and totally miss the point. But anyway.  Ron/Hermione but rather of the angst-y sort so you fluff-lovers may be sad. Poor things. Anyway, just read!  I haven't written in ages._

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You grow up somewhere in, say, London, maybe.  London's nice if you like feeling sort of lonely without ever feeling warm.  It's a nice school you go too, not _nice nice_ but prestigious and for children who will grow up and be doctors and lawyers. Not actresses and actors, you wonder how scary it would be to feel all those eyes on you....to feel so watched, so looked at.  It_ would _scare you, and it _does_.

You never were good with people. Good with words, maybe.  People who grow up and make names for themselves aren't good with people they're good with work and life and things that go with the mind. And, well, if you know anything at all...you know it all goes back to the mind.  

You see your parents together and they're _really_ happy people. You can't imagine being like that, well, not really.  Your Father sweeps your Mother off of her feet, which isn't difficult because it's_ all _about her heart. And your Father, he's so logical...and it's so _sane_, that it scares you sometimes. You can't impress logical people.  Emotional people are so simple; they are so faultless.

When you're of age, which really means eleven, you go off to a school.  Big school it is.  It's filled with smart girls and boys and silly girls and boys and nothing really in between.  

You don't go looking for friends, you don't go around wanting friends, and you most certainly, almost always regret having them.  But they're _there._

You see them and they're boys and you're not even a bit nervous.  Not because you know the three of you shall be "best friends forever" but because you know nothing of the sort will _ever _happen.

But it _does._

They don't like you--why should they? You're bossy and rude and sort of strangely emotional every now and then.  You like crisp parchment and jam on toast and you aren't the least bit interested in them.  They're just like every other eleven-year-old set of boys.  They're just like every other sort of set of _anything._

So, you spend time being _you_. Which is really like being Mummy or a know-it-all.  And you finally found people who can _take_ it.  Strong boys with their own problems and insecurities and baggage.

Baggage like having a thick scar on your face 'cause Voldemort killed your parents.

And baggage like never feeling good enough for everything while being the most arrogant person in all of London.

But you _fall_ for them. Rather, you _jump_ for them and _fight_ for them and _eat_ with them and _that _sort of thing. You don't love them, or care about them, they're just people you met. People who walk with you to classes and the sort.  But, even if it's not friendship, it's something good that almost always ends up bad.

There were many times you thought that you couldn't possibly go on.  You were supposed to face the Dark Lord?  You were supposed to be the strength and the glue and _the One_?  But you weren't, even if you came through.  Black-haired boy was the One and redhead was the Strength and that was all there was to it.

You weren't quite sure where you fit in.

And then...at the height of your life, the pinnacle of success, the amazement of the world shone upon you--and, _you were **in** love_.  And not only were you in love, you realized you had been in love forever and that what you wanted was what you had.  But what about school and life and success...and lonely nights?  What about living a logical life where a Prince came and left and you two were just fine without each other.  Where you were independent and neat and good.

With _no_ complications.

So you found someone--well, not that someone but _someone_ either way.  A young man with the name 'crum' or something in is last name.  You met him in the library and found the interest he sparked rather dull but he didn't find _you_ dull.  He understood, sort of the need to get away from the fame--which for you was the boys and for him were the fans.  You weren't good at quidditch, not _into_ being thrown into the air and soaring--still didn't believe broomsticks could fly, either.  Quidditch was his life, quidditch was what he lived for and died for.

And you wish you had that. But you _did_.  You had the boys.

But...perhaps it wasn't quite the same.

He asked you to the Christmas dance, the one with the fancy name, and he said it in such an elaborate way you grew bored.  But he _still _said it. You said yes and making the redhead jealous wasn't the deciding factor--but it was _still_ a factor. 

You were pretty that night but you were still the little girl inside. You hadn't the charm for all the looks and no set of dress robes could make up for that. You didn't feel much different, just like the little girl who made friends with the big boys.  But you weren't. You were _fourteen_ and you were rather old and even grown-up.

The redhead was jealous, just as planned, and you were unhappy, just as planned, and you realized, just as _un_planned, that you were in love with the redhead and no Quidditch Star--no one, even--could change that.

That nothing was for sure...but this--this was _certain._

Everything returned to normal and bitterness _n_ever faded and happiness _did_, and rather quickly at that. Your Father said: _'Your Mother and I worry about you every now and again.'_  And they _shouldn't_, you thought. And no one _should_, and maybe not even the boys.

You fought evil, as was expected and you were a fighter but you very much so weren't.  You grew up, even more so than before, and you never did, which was expected because you led an _odd _life. You began thinking about University when everyone else was thinking about **love**.

And you were too a bit.

Redhead dated every now and then and whenever he did you thought he should be asking _you _and he should want to date _you_--and only _you_--and always only _you _and no one else until _you_ died. And then, and then, he would be bitter and sad and live alone until he died.  And that was just the way it _should've_ worked.

You got out of Hogwarts, after seventh year, of course. Which was a confusing time for all that lived. A war was starting and people were burning and life _sort of_ lost meaning.

And there you were. And you were still a little girl just made to grow up and be big and important. Because you wanted to be big and important without being famous, which was near impossible.  And it was _over_.

And it was time to move on when all you wanted to do was go back.

So you said your good-byes, everyone did. The Dark Lord still existed and Evil would never go away and you hadn't been on a date since fourth year. 

And as the carriage pulled away, as the whistle sounded, as the people grew weary, as the war raged on, as all you ever knew faded...

_…You went away with it…_

~*~


End file.
